


Wavelengths

by itsgoodtobeking



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsgoodtobeking/pseuds/itsgoodtobeking
Summary: Oswald misreads the situation. Ed doesn't seem to notice. No harm done?A bittersweet Valentine's Day drabble.





	

They're nearly running late for their own dinner reservations.

"...May I?" Ed asks. 

Oswald half-turns from the mirror to look at him, still busily buttoning up his waistcoat. By the time he's figured out how to answer, Ed's already closing the distance between them in a few long-legged strides. He swipes Oswald's chosen cravat off the dresser - a blue Paisely'd thing with intricate gold accents - and slings it loosely around Oswald's neck, hands unshy and moving with all the effortless confidence of working through another mundane puzzle.

Oswald blinks - a restless flutter of his lashes - and draws his shoulders back, doing his best to keep still as Ed's knuckles brush his vest and his breath ghosts his forehead, prickly-hot. He isn't quite sure where to look for a moment and settles for offering a flicker of a smile instead. "Thank you."

It's a funny thing, the shift from flinching from Ed's touch to barely tolerating it to welcoming it, itching for it. A change he never noticed until the warmth and weight of a hand on his shoulder at the right time had brought on a giddy-sick flutter in his chest that made him feel too young and too old all at once. He all but squirms under the weight of Ed's gaze, the intensity of his all-consuming focus, and as he sucks in a slow, steadying breath he reminds himself that there are scarier things in Gotham than Ed Nygma and the dizzying pull of a force he's realizing is so much bigger than himself. He doesn't dare give it a name. Not yet.

Ed tucks the long end of the cravat through the loop he's made and tugs it, fussing over it until it's as crisp and impeccable as the Windsor knot of his own tie. He finishes, tweaking the collars of Oswald's shirt just so and smoothing out his front before finally stepping back to look him over. He huffs a pleased little sigh.

Their eyes meet and a trill of adrenaline runs down Oswald's spine; he's suddenly too aware of the way the space between them seems to pulse like a living thing.

"Lovely." Ed smiles broadly at him. 

Oswald blinks back, mouth hanging open uselessly for a moment while searching his face. "...what?" He can feel his ears burning.

Ed gestures to him with a nudge of his chin. "Your cravat," he says, without missing a beat.

Oswald looks down at himself as if noticing it for the first time.

Ed casually picks a fleck of lint off Oswald's shoulder, his smile unwavering, determinedly clueless. "It's lovely," he says, turning away to slide on his own suit jacket and leaving Oswald staring blankly after him, more than a little tempted to claw the damn thing off his neck.


End file.
